


Ravaged

by ShadeDuelist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Eleventh Doctor Era, F/M, Post-Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song contemplates where she stands with the Doctor, the man she shouldn't like, the man that has so little in common with her...</p><p>...the man that sets her aflame as easily as flicking a switch on the TARDIS console.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ravaged

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't much to say about this apart from these three remarks:
> 
> a) this is supposed to take place in between when 'The Angels Take Manhattan' and 'The Snowmen' and it's supposedly when River and the Doctor have all their dates/living together.  
> b) this has no plot whatsoever, and no raison d'etre other than indulging my need for River/Doctor.  
> c) this is part of a bigger whole. What the whole is, I cannot yet explain.
> 
> Enjoy the otherwise context-less story!

There were days she hated the Doctor, but that day wasn't one of them.  Though at the beginning, it seemed like it would be.

Waking up on an unknown world with purple light shining through the window the TARDIS had created just for that purpose, she wondered as she got dressed by what twist of fate she'd _had_ to fall in love with the man.  There were so many reasons why it couldn't work, ever.  She'd been trained to kill him, basically since _birth_.  She'd always been envious of the way he was close to her parents – she still _was_ somewhat envious of that.  He was a Time Lord, she... a mutated human, at best, though she had the physiology of his kind.  He despised violence while she sauntered through life with a pistol or blaster close at hand at all times.  ...So many other reasons came to mind as well: he snored, he always managed to ruin dinner, their senses of 'adventure' differed, she was interested in archaeology and he didn't like that much, she couldn't get used to sleeping on the TARDIS while it flew – heavens, she couldn't get used to sleeping _in his room_...

“...You're doing it again, dear.”, he said, wrapping one arm around her, causing her to realize she'd made her way to the TARDIS' console room and had been standing by his side for a while – while she wondered what it was she was doing, and whether 'again' fit the thing she was doing, he smiled and answered her mental question as easily as though she'd posed it out loud: “Well, you're frowning again.  You'll get little... frown-wrinkles if you keep doing that-”

“Oh, shut up, sweetie, I'll never get a wrinkle unless I _want to_.”, she retorted, causing him to smile and tease her good-naturedly.

“You'll scare them all off, right?  Not sure that's how wrinkles _work_ but if you say so, you're... well, not the expert, because you clearly are _very_ successful in scaring those wrinkles off-”

“You just won't shut up, will you, sweetie?”, she said sweetly, rolling her eyes when his arm detached and _he_ frowned for a change.  Sometimes, he behaved like a pouting child, but then, the next second...

“...We should get going, if we hurry we can see the Purple Cascades – there's this legend, you see, that the water gets its colour from the sunrise, because today is the Day of the Bath of the Sun, but in reality it's just a fish that-”

She cut him off with the only thing that would halt his flow of words in a case like that one, the only thing guaranteed to provoke a long and lasting silence from him: a kiss.  It was lighter than usual, not the hot, messy, exquisite kissing they usually indulged in when alone – and sometimes when they weren't alone, just to make him flustered and completely beside himself in both shame and longing – but also not the quick, almost-not-there kisses they'd had to give at times.  When she pulled away again, a second or three later, he just stared at her, confused most of all but also a little bit of that flustered quality in his voice when he spoke.

“...What... did I deserve that for?”

“It's the only way I know to get you to _quiet down_...”, she admitted, expecting him to chuckle a little uncomfortably, as he usually did when she mentioned she used her 'feminine wiles' to get him to fall in line with her expectations, or even just pout again.

What she didn't expect was him pulling her against himself – quite _hard_ at that – and kissing her with all the expertise and indulgence that was usually _her_ job to express.  Not that she had complaints – or if she had, she very definitely couldn't get them voiced, not with the Doctor's mouth fastened over hers and his tongue keeping hers occupied.  And then he gave a small groan and that was making her _melt_ into his hold, despite herself.  He was too good at getting her to give herself up...  All too soon, however, she found her mouth free again, and while she was still collecting her thoughts, the Doctor spoke up in a heartbeat.

“How does it feel now that _you_ are the one kissed into shutting up?”  It sounded just a little too smug and just a little too breathless – and just a teensy, tiny bit too _heated_ for his own good – but before she could kiss that satisfaction right out of his mind, he kissed her again, heatedly and slowly, like hers was the only taste in a bland world and he was desperate for it but also scared it might run out.  It dawned on her that he might actually be _relishing_ intheir kiss, even if he'd made it sound he was showing her up.

Now that was a first.

She was so stunned by his clear enjoyment that she forgot, for a second, to reciprocate, and he pulled away again, looking at her in confusion.

“...You know, River, you can _kiss back_ , I won't bite your tongue off or anything...”, he said, smiling a little of that silly smile he usually had when around her, half teasing-slash-flirting, half scintillatingly pleased with just her presence, and it made her smile back at him.

“I know, sweetie, you're far too considerate for that, and believe me, I'll do a lot more than kiss back if you promise not to start about those purple waterfalls anymore-”

“But the Purple Cascades are lovely!”, he protested, though he didn't manage to get his eyes off her as he spoke, which told her more than enough.  Grinning, she took a half step back and watched his eyes display the sense of undeniable need as she spoke.

“Well, fine, if you think seeing some _purple water_ is more important than I am-”

“Consider them forgotten.”, the Doctor said, pulling her against him again, this time more gently, and when he kissed her, this time she didn't fail to respond, putting her hands onto his back while he tangled one of his in her hair and let the other drop to her hip.  She loved the little groan he gave and the little falter in his nerve when she let one hand slowly trail down his back to give his right buttock a little squeeze – but when he did the same to her, she reacted in kind, giving an ever-so-light shudder.  They kissed each other slowly, languidly almost, enjoying the other's taste and feel and scent – the man smelled of something new every day, it seemed, and she was more than happy to fill her nostrils and lungs with whatever it was, absorbing as much of it as she could- “Ah, _River_ , the things you do to me...”, he whispered into the quiet around them, his voice breathless and needy as ever before, and she smiled her most seductive smile as she answered his sentiment.

“Mmm, the things _you_ make me want to do...”  She took great pleasure in not kissing him again instantly, or allowing him to kiss her again instantly for the matter, and instead untucking his shirt very deliberately.  It always felt like she was unraveling him when she did that, which was true in a way, because his emotions were just as neatly held back and restrained as his shirt was buttoned and his tie was tied, and undoing his clothes seemed to let loose all those tumultuous longings and feelings he held back all the time, especially when _she_ was considered.  “...I love it when you have that look in your eyes, sweetie, that look that says you're going to _ravish_ me... and I think I know just what you need right now...”, she said softly, pulling loose his bow tie, smiling still as she did so, and he leaned a little closer.

“What's that, dear?”

“Well, it involves you, me, and that bed of yours – you know the one, the one where you keep insisting I join you in as you travel... the one that has the sheets that you say I'd look lovely on-”

She could hardly blame him for being impatient and kissing her again with all the subtlety of a rampaging army – and _Gods,_ where'd he learnt to _kiss like that_?  She was losing track of anything that wasn't him and herself and the way they stumbled through the TARDIS now, still lip-locked, not looking but feeling their way ahead.  Some time after they'd exited the console room again – or had it been the kitchen, where they'd been before? – the Doctor started kissing his way down her neck, his lips parting from time to time to allow him to suckle on the sensitive skin beneath them, eliciting a few gasps from her and causing her to tighten her grip on his head.  He looked completely and very pleasantly mussed, so unlike his usual calm and composed self – his hair was a mess what with her hand just having dug into it, trying to get a hold on him so she could at least _feel_ like she could hold him back, and his shirt hung open and showed his pale, stringy upper body, with just a few little reddish lines from where she'd dragged her nails days before.  When he moved on to her shoulders, pushing the straps of her dress down to her upper arms, she was already feeling like she was going to burst into flames any second – but she knew he'd make sure that she'd get _even more_ fired up in no time at all, especially now that she'd managed to make him singularly focused on the task.  Oh, she knew that the Doctor was a very delicately balanced man, and that tipping his balance into the direction of lust would make sure he couldn't stop himself.  Sometimes, she wondered whether just one kiss of her upset his balance already, because that seemed to be all it took to get him to just throw caution – and one time, his clothes...

“Door.  Room. N-now.”, the Doctor said impatiently, his voice a little shaky, breaking her train of thoughts; for a brief while, River was stumped why he'd spoken up at all, until a door hissed open next to them and she realized he'd commanded the TARDIS to speed up the process a little by creating a doorway where there hadn't been one yet.  “Thank Heaven for that...”, he groaned before kissing her again, deeply and demandingly, while they stumbled backwards into the room.  A stack of books fell off the desk as they collided into it, and he let one hand leave her bottom to feel around the edge of the room – but she cared little for how they got there, as long as they managed to get into his bed, because she didn't think either of them could wait much longer.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they found themselves toppling onto the bed.  He clearly wanted to be the master of the situation, but she managed to wriggle out of his hold when he tried to flip them over and kept half-kneeling over him, the hemline of her dress draped neatly over his half-naked stomach.

“Dear Lord, I think I might... _supernova_ if you don't-”, he started, but she smiled down at him and nodded, breathlessly answering.

“Get the shirt off, sweetie, and I might just _help you along_.”  Normally, he'd blush so fiercely when she made a comment like that – whether they were alone or in company – but now he simply pushed his shirt the remainder of the way off him and then looked up at her expectantly.  “...Want something?”, she asked sweetly, and he groaned loudly.

“ _River Song_ , you know what I want... take the dress off, it's... in the way!”, he finished hotly, and she grinned her usual devilish my-way-or-no-way grin.

“ _You didn't say the magic word..._ ”, she breathed out, leaning down to kiss him fiercely – really, was there any other way, other than to kiss him out of all of his objections? – but she nearly sucked his tongue in when he trailed his hands down to her knees and then up her legs, pushing up her skirt, and then pressing two of his fingers very insistently against  the silken fabric of her knickers, right over her privates.  There was nothing for it, she had to pull back to get some air back into her lungs so she could _voice_ just how _utterly delightful-_

“Maybe your dress isn't so much in the way as your panties are...”, he admitted, still pressing his fingers into her underpants and slowly making small, utterly _brain-melting_ circular motions with them, and _Heavens, she felt like she'd burn the sheets if she didn't give in_ , but she was still stubbornly refusing to let him dictate the pace.  However, each time she decided to kiss him again, be it his lips or his neck or his shoulder or chest her lips connected to, his fingers pushed a little harder and she couldn't keep it up, and in the end, she relented and pushed off him, which opportunity he naturally took to flip them over so he was the one hovering over her.

“You planned this all along, didn't you?”

“No more and no less than you did, River, dear”, he said, and she couldn't fault his logic.  She'd been planning how to have her way with him ever since he'd first kissed her back, after all.  “I love it when you get all... _mercenary_ about this...”, he admitted, causing her to chuckle before pulling him down against her, his bare chest pressing against as much of her bare skin as was possible with her dress still on; and maybe he was right, she mused when she felt dissatisfied with the limited bare skin contact she had with her husband.

“...My dress-”

“Yes, please...”, he muttered, letting her get up again so she could pull it over her head and drop it to the floor in a crumpled heap.  Now all she wore were her satin undergarments: the way the Doctor's eyes fastened on her form, she knew he couldn't look away even if he wanted to, and she felt a slight sense of accomplishment at that.  “...Don't bother-”, he once again started, but she could guess what he'd meant as easily as she could predict his blushes, and she leaned over him again, her hands moving to unfasten his pants and pull them slowly down.  Oh, he was ready for her, ready as ever, just the way she liked it.  Still, she didn't yet peel his underwear off – mostly because they seemed to be, despite both of them positively _aching_ for the other, pacing themselves – instead looking him over slowly.

“Well, now, _hello_ there, sweetie...”, she said with her most luxuriating grin, and he grinned back at her.

“I... wasn't kidding about the supernova earlier – I might just _implode_ if we don't... get on with this right now...”

“Now that would be a waste.”, she admitted, crawling over him until they were face to face again, at which point they kissed: it was impossible, as well as _unimportant_ , to determine who had been the first to lean in and claim the other's lips.  When they parted, breathing heavily, River was positively _delighted_ to find her Doctor's hands on her bottom once more, thumbs somewhat intentionally hooking under the top of her panties and pulling them down just a little – the cool air hitting the exposed skin made goosebumps erupt on her bare skin for a second.  Or maybe, she thought in a flash, what got her to shiver and her skin to flush was the sheer _anticipation_ of having the man she loved so dearly and deeply finally _take control_ of their lovemaking, even if it was still hesitantly and somewhat helplessly.

“Gods help me, River, we should move this along right now or I might not be able to _handle-_ ”

“Oh, I'll do the _handling_ , sweetie-”, she said, only to yelp when he removed one hand from her bottom and moved it to the front of her hip so he could press his thumb right into her overly eager privates, making the satin feel uncomfortably tight against the too-sensitive skin and making her emit a soft squeak.

“I think being all thumbs isn't always a _bad_ thing...”, he said, gently nuzzling her bosom while pushing the straps of her bra down.  It had taken him weeks to figure out how to remove the thing – she'd provided him all the exercise he needed, eagerly, of course – but he still sometimes fumbled whenever things got exceptionally heated.  Briefly wondering how long it'd take now that he really, _really_ was close to the point where he'd basically lose it with or without her, she expected he'd fumble for a long time.

But again, the Doctor surprised her.

“Sweetie!”, she exclaimed when he just pulled the clasps of her bra – the hooks tore off the fabric audibly, and she knew it'd be ruined, damaged beyond repair, because he'd been too impatient to fiddle with it – but when he placed kisses and those hot little nips she though were exquisite all over the newly exposed skin of her breasts, she dismissed the thought of her garments again and instead surrendered to this new, slightly rough course of action, mainly because it was driving her slowly and deliciously out of her mind by now.  “... _Sweetie,_ how do you _think_ of it-”

“I wanted to hurry it up a bit – if I don't have you soon, dear, I think I might just... make a mess of things...”  _That_ was new, too – the Doctor usually was the master of self-restraint; for him to warn her that he could reach his end just from the tension...

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?”, she said, grinning from ear to ear as she got up off him again, shimmying out of her much-hated panties while he gratefully used the time to strip down as well; and then, once she'd crawled back over him, intending to finally, finally sheathe him inside her, he pulled her tightly against himself, rolled the both of them over again, and then, looking down on her...

“Hope you don't mind, but _I need to do this_...”, he muttered, and she meant to ask just what he was planning on doing when he thrust into her roughly, at the same time pressing her legs a little higher.  Her startled cry was half surprise and half pleasure, but all satisfaction. _Finally_ , finally he was the one to _take the action_.  He'd always happily let her gently persuade him, and at times let her very urgently persuade him as well; now, he needed no exhortation.  “Mmh, _River_ , sorry-”, he groaned half-extatically, but she panted out an answer, still grinning.

“Don't you _dare_ apologise for being perfect – and _don't you dare stop_...”  Slowly, his surprise turned to a smile which slowly evolved into a grin to match hers as he repeated his initial thrust, over and over, faster and faster, breathing increasingly more heavily.  She had to admit honestly that her own breathing hitched as well on every inward motion, her brain switching off a little bit more with each of his exhales right against her shoulder.  “Doctor-”

“Lord have mercy, _River_...”, he muttered – what got her to shudder and gasp was not the fact that he moaned out her name, but the fact that he moaned it in old-Gallifreyan.  Her name had never sounded more – for lack of a better term – melodious, not to mention it felt like him calling on her to give everything she had.

Oh, how happy she was to give herself up to him.

It seemed to take both forever and a single blink of an eye for her body to fire up and burn with the intensity of her desire to tumble off the precipice and fall for him, _with_ him; fuelled by the contact with his body that was slowly starting to tremble just as badly as hers, his thrusts that were growing irregular and yet rougher, his skin that was starting to _glow_ with energy and sweat, she was starting to grow dizzy and detached of her body, moaning for him and dragging her nails down his back in an attempt to spur him on.

“ _Sweetie, please...”_ , she ground out in his maternal language, in between the deep, breathless, hoarse moans that were in the universal language of desire, and he responded in kind.

“ _River, oh my River, I'm begging you, let me... let me capture you..._ ”

“Oh Doctor.. _oh, Sweetie, do it, take all of me-_ ”

A particularly deep thrust of his unwound the tension in her body with a snap, unleashing a fire that singed from her core to her brain and her hearts, burning throughout her and rendering her incapable to do anything but hold onto her husband and keen lowly as his final few thrusts synched up with the pull of her insides before he shuddered and followed her into oblivion with a loud cry of her name in old-Gallifreyan – in between the syllables he so loudly voiced, her half-whisper of his name, his _actual name_ , in his maternal language was drowned out – she thought he hadn't heard since he didn't react as his hips still shallowly twitched in the final throes of his climax, and that thought only grew stronger as he all but collapsed on her with a softly muttered 'sorry'.  If he'd heard at all, he wouldn't just topple down on top of her, pressing his heated body so close to hers for a second that it was hard to ignore just how much of a sweat he'd worked up – or she herself, for that matter.  In the end, he reiterated his soft-spoken 'sorry' with a look at her that was, once again, helpless and slightly ill at ease, and she smiled encouragingly.

“Oh, sweetie, don't apologise for being the perfect man you are...  ...Well, it seems we got a bit _sidetracked_ -”, she reacted, expecting him to roll his eyes and start explaining how she was at the base of this, but he chuckled instead and nodded.

“I dare say you're good at sidetracking the both of us, especially into whichever bedroom-type accomodations we have available – remember the hotel back on Elvarion V?”

“How could I forget, sweetie, you kept insisting to check the bed over before finally deciding it'd do for the occasion.  I _still_ say that planetary governor had no business being upset, it's not like he was _using_ the bed during the day.  ...Well, maybe we should go see those purple waterfalls of yours anyway – if we're not yet too late...”

“I could... park us a little closer...  I mean, I had intended to make a little outing of it, but now we'll just have to make do...”, the Doctor said, smiling as he got up out of the bed and started putting his clothing on again, blushing a little more fiercely when she stretched before doing the same.  She had done that on purpose, true, because she loved his reaction – because she loved knowing that she evoked that reaction from him, of course – but now that the moment of utter intimacy had come and gone, it was more out of indulgence than out of actual teasing.  They dressed quickly, heading back into the console room, where they were greeted by the TARDIS bleeping a little cheekily, causing the Doctor to blush so deeply that his entire face seemed badly sunburnt.

“I am _not_ 'obsessed with her' – and she has a _name_ , it's River, and she's my _wife_ so you'd better start being nice to her.  ...Besides...”, he muttered, turning his back on the console, acting once more like a sulking child – just the way she knew him - “...who cares if I _am_ 'obsessed with her', _she's my wife, she's mine_.”

...Had she imagined the way he looked at her for a second, the aside glance that was so hot and laden that it might as well have been an energy blast right into the very heart of her?  If she had, though, there was no way in any corner of the universe that she'd imagined the possessive tone he'd spoken those words in.  “...Coming, dear?”, he asked next – looking up, she saw him standing at the doors of the TARDIS, holding them open to an alien vista the likes of which she hadn't seen before, all lilac skies and golden water and land the colour of dried blood.  His cheeky smile showed that he'd known she had been thinking about him, and she decided to tease him.

“Funny, could've sworn that was only ten minutes ago...”

“Don't push it.”, he said a little sternly, and she rolled her eyes, intending to walk outside past him and 'accidentally' run her hand over his stomach as she did so, giving his shirt a little tug to continue her teasing, but he beat her to it: as she passed, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, so she could smell the faintest trace of the odour of his sweat still lingering around him as well as feel the soft tickle of his breath on her cheek as he spoke in a whisper into her ear, the words easy enough to understand since she'd made his maternal tongue her second language.

_“My name sounds best when you say it in the moments where we are one, but never forget what knowing it and saying it means.  Don't ever think you're not mine and mine alone, River Song, my dear bespoke psychopath...”_

She couldn't get her tongue to move properly all of a sudden: every teasing remark, every rebellious comeback, even every change of subject she could think of, they all died on her tongue, her lips deforming all of the words until finally she said the one thing that she _knew_ was _right_.

 _“I'm yours, my sweet Doctor, and yours alone, just like you are mine and no one else's.  After all, I think the entire planet heard you say_ my _name then... but I love it, I love that we know each other's names, and hearts.  And I love you, sweetie, and I always will.”_

...There were days when she hated the Doctor, but that day was definitely one of the days she couldn't possibly _love_ him any more.


End file.
